Page 43 of The Proposition
“Did you ask the driver to wait?”
“I did.”
“Ralston!” he barked, summoning the man from his post outside the half-opened door. His valet rushed in, long hair somewhat askew.
“Sir?”
“Find Miss Fry’s hackney driver and dismiss him; pay himwell for his silence. She was never here and he never drove her.”
“Right away, sir.”
Audric then returned to the matter of the letter, which he found a bit sad, if anything, and not the explosive shock it had apparently been for Clemency. That Turner Boyle was involved with other men, or pretended to be, hardly rated on the rogue’s list of unexpected traits.
“If we use this letter against Boyle,” Audric told her slowly, lowering the message and turning to regard her. The flurry of activity and the ride over had left her with a pretty glow on her cheeks; she ought to be flustered more often, it became her. “Then, we also use it against Connors. He will be implicated in the scandal. What sort of man is he?”
“Oh.” Clemency chewed her lip nervously. “I had not considered that. He is not a mean sort. Blundering, I think, is the best way to describe him. A man with more money and time than sense. An enthusiastic drinker.”
“So exactly like his gentry peers, I see.” Audric sighed and dropped the letter on his desk, then massaged his temples with one hand.
“I thought you would be more shocked,” Clemency told him.
He smiled and crossed his arms, leaning back to perch on the edge of his desk. It had become warm in his office, and he had avoided his coat, though now with her there it felt impolite and informal. “Your willingness to take part in my schemes sometimes leads me to forget your sheltered upbringing. I suppose there was not much talk of mollies and lesbians in Round Orchard.”
Clemency blanched. “I am not sheltered! But…no. Certainly not. That is illegal, sir.”
“Not in France,” Audric explained lightly.
“This is not at all the reaction I expected.”
“What did you expect? For me to express disgust? For this to be some great coup for us?” Audric chuckled. “Do not take offense at this, Clemency, but there are far ghastlier things in this world than a bit of loving buggery. What Boyle has done to my sister and others, for one. His aggravating knack for eluding justice, for another.”
Clemency shook her head and frowned. “Why do I feel like I am being scolded?”
“Because you are,” Audric stated plainly. “But it is not with a mean spirit, I assure you. You simply are not wise to the ways of these things. It was Rousseau that said, ‘I would rather be a man of paradoxes than a man of prejudices’ and I wholeheartedly agree.”
“Stop speaking to me as if I were a child!”
“Then stop acting like one.”
She huffed and balled her fists, and for a moment he thought she might shout at him and leave. If she had, his estimation of her would have lowered gravely, but she threw no tantrums and stood still, closing her eyes tightly before saying, “You cannot fault me for my ignorance.”
“No, but I can and will fault you for whatever comes next,” Audric replied, watching her closely. His words had banished the lovely pink from her cheeks, and he almost regretted it. Her affronted face, however, was somewhat gratifying. “Besides, this letter only confirms that Mr. Connors maintains feelings for Boyle, not that his affection isreturned. In fact, that Boyle had chosen to return it unread would only point to his innocence in the matter. This implicates Connors and no one else. Though I do not know the man from Adam nor care about his fate, he is yet another victim in Boyle’s wake.”
“Do you suppose he used Connors for his money?” Clemency asked softly.
“Absolutely. But your family has come into wealth again, and so Mr. Connors is no longer needed, and the risk of the relationship has outgrown the reward. I would wager that this talk of a love affair was Boyle’s way of keeping Connors from retaliating.” He started scratching his chin. It was odd, now that he thought more on it, that Boyle would let go of such useful blackmail. Why return the letter? It was his security against Connors accusing him of theft. “Boyle must truly dislike the man to willingly return such useful evidence.”
Clemency fidgeted on the carpet, then fiddled with her bonnet ribbons before removing her hat. “Perhaps he found the implications distasteful.”
“And do you?” Audric pressed. It pained him to think that she was a woman of low, mean prejudice. He thought better of her, much better, and hated to be disappointed. Many of his friends in Paris were British exiles, fleeing the pillories of London to carve out a more peaceful life in France, where men loving men and women loving women was far more accepted, or at the very least, ignored. It was nothing to anybody, and even flaunted in some circles. Audric himself felt little distinction between attraction to a man and attraction to a woman—there were physical charms to both, but his only true interest lay in a person’s heart and mind. To finda woman or man of true quality was incredibly rare, genuineattraction something he experienced so seldom that to squander it based on gender seemed wasteful. He hated waste. And so, whoever took his heart took his heart.
“I hardly know how to answer that question,” Clemency stammered. There was that becoming flush again. Charming. “Perhaps…perhaps Iamsheltered.” An admission! His brows shot up, and she readily noticed. “In some small ways!” she hurried to add.
“Are you expected anywhere today, Clemency?” he asked. It mattered. Her thoughts on the subject, annoyingly, now occupied space in his thoughts. If she really was a woman of quality, then he could be himself in front of her. His true self. All would be revealed quickly, he surmised, after his next suggestion.
“No.” She drew out the word questioningly. “Tansy and my brother were called away to attend to a friend. I had planned to deliver a letter for my sister, but I thought this matter more urgent. Why?”
“You find yourself a significant distance from Round Orchard, faced with a moral quandary for which you do not have the vocabulary. We have a saying in France,‘Il n’y a pas plus sourd que celui qui ne veut pas entendre.’ ”
